3 Poems About Books

This Tuesday, I decided to do something fun and different. I haven’t shared too much of my own writing on my blog yet, so I decided to share a few poems I wrote recently. I’m fairly good at writing poetry, but I guess my novel has demanded much more of my time and attention and kept me away from daydreaming about rhyming words and prose. So I feel a little obstinate towards my novel today in posting nothing but poetry!

3 Poems About Books - Tea with Tumnus


Secret Sanctuary

A room smells of must and dust

This piano’s keys to touch I must

But some fresh air

From deep in this lair

Rustles my skirts and with each little gust

Comes a longing to discover this house turned to rust


The floorboards creak as I silently walk

Down empty halls with walls scribbled with chalk

But I’m afraid to touch

‘Cause of mildew and such

So I pass, heart beating, towards two large oak doors

Distracted on hearing wailing wind from outdoors


Should I keep going?

I am afraid

And yet, these doors seem to be calling me

Waiting to be opened


I take a deep breath and thrust my arms wide

Approaching the doors, one arm to each side

I step forward and push

Praying against ambush

Closing my eyes, yet eager to see

This unknown chamber I’ve let call to me


I squint and gasp, and look around

And laugh at myself; I’m quite safe and sound

Open windows with light

Add to my delight

Though the dust-choked room could be hiding an adversary,

I spin round to take in a huge library


Oh, if I were light enough to dance in the breeze

I clap my hands and exclaim with such ease

Who owns these books

Locked up as from crooks?

They smell and feel as old as a century

But this room is like home, this secret sanctuary


Thanking curiosity for venturing in

A house which for in decades no one has been

I take in this room

For though small, ’tis the womb

Of worlds and magic waiting behind these hard covers

Calling timid hearts, for they’re the true discoverers



I read them

I write them

I photograph them

I recommend them

I obsess over them

I blog about them

I organize them

I study them

I buy them

I love them



Some prefer a cozy armchair and spiced tea

by a fire

Still others enjoy the seat by the window

and the glass stained with


Preferences vary in

the library, a bookstore, coffee shop, or the

garden outside

But for me, anywhere is


As long as I remember to take my

imagination with me

because in the end, all you really need

to accompany and compliment

a book

is your wild imagintion

it can go


But be careful, dear

There’s lots of worlds out there

These worlds are written on


But they rely on our magic to

really see them

There are worlds full of purple trees and

lollipop roses

Others are cities with buildings sky high

And you also have

haunted castles basking in their

dark majesty

There are round planets and

flat ones

aliens strange and exotic

So you see,

my friend,

it’s not just the pages inviting you

but also your


to help guide you

For a book without imagination would

be dull

an abomination to nature and all things

good under the sun

But imagination without

a book

would result in only the most

direst circumstances

Be careful

for an imagination is wild and strong

it can break loose and run away

far away

begging you

to follow

And that’s it! I sort of enjoyed a Poemly Post and hope to do it again. What do you think? I welcome all criticism and feedback, so feel free to hit me on the head if you seriously thought I could have done better; I’ll take the hint.

Have a good day and good writing to you.

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